Father Christmas
by LJ Fan
Summary: When she was younger, Ginny loved to write Father Christmas. Years later, it was no longer fun, it was something that had to be done. (Due to some bad saving, all coding was dropped, this will be fixed.)


Author's Notes: This came to me during math class. What was I doing in math class that made me think of this? Reading The Princess Diaries, of course. Doesn't everyone? Anyways, this is extremely short, but I feel bad about not writing anything in ages. So here's a teaser in hopes I get my muse back soon. Also, lot of spelling mistakes in this one. It's not because I cannot spell for anything, it's because Ginny is only (As she writes) six and three quarters year old.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Ginny, nor Father Christmas, nor the brilliant ideas of OP. I am merely borrowing with intention of returning or asking if I may.  
  
~*~  
  
Dear Father Christmas,  
  
Percy went to Hogwarts this year to. Fred and George threw a really, really, really, really big party when we got home. Mummy got mad.  
  
Anyways, Father Christmas, all I want this year is a doll house and dolls to play with. And make Ron play with me more! And get Ron a pet because I think he really misses his puffskin...pufskin...pufskeen? Well...he misses his last pet. Please bring him a new one.  
  
Or don't because he just looked at my letter and laughed at me. He's so mean!!!!!  
  
Love (Mummy says that's the mature thing to right!) Six and three quarters Ginny Weasley.  
  
P. S. Mummy promised to leave lovely biscuts on Christmas Eve! And I get to help! Hope you like them!  
  
~*~  
  
Ginny watched her mother write Father Christmas on the envelope, put a Christmas sticker on it and start a fire. When the Floo Network seemed ready, she tossed the letter in, watching it as the green flames grabbed the envelope, sending it to Father Christmas himself.  
  
She never got what she asked for, but she still always wrote to Father Christmas in case one year she would.  
  
~*~  
  
Ginny Weasley sat curled up like a cat on the chair, eight years later, trying to make sense of everything. How could her father get bitten? And why by a snake? To this day she was still afraid of snakes. She tried to banish that memory from her mind, but it wouldn't work. She had no one to talk to. If she opened her mouth, she was quite sure she would start swearing and yelling at Sirius. Who cared whether or not they found out before her mother? She was worried about her father, not what the rest of the world thought about her.  
  
In any other case, a girl would normally turn to her diary to talk to. But ever since her first year, she was afraid of those, too. She could have talked to Hermione if she was not skiing. Name after name she went through, trying to think of someone she could contact. She really needed to talk to someone.  
  
When she heard Sirius mention something about butterbeers, she remembered that it was almost Christmas. At Christmas, the Weasley family always had butterbeers to drink then. Christmas...  
  
Without a word, Ginny stood up and left the room. She had everything she needed with her in the knapsack, but she couldn't let anyone else see what she was doing. She walked up to the room she and Hermione stayed in during the summer, and leaped on the bed. The familiar smell greeted her. She looked over at Hermione's bed, half expecting her to be there, and finding herself shocked when she wasn't.  
  
Slowly, Ginny removed a piece of parchment from her knapsack, a quill, and ink. Ginny began to write, her hand shaking.  
  
~*~  
  
Dear Father Christmas,  
  
Remember me? I haven't written to you in years. I apologize. I guess I just figured it was pointless to ask for something I knew I would never get. But this year is different. I am not asking for animals, nor money, nor anything for me. I am, however, asking something for my father.  
  
Though I cannot explain how, in case this gets intercepted like my mother is always warning me about, my father was bitten by a snake this morning. We don't know anything, except for there is a lot of blood and he needed to be taken to St. Mungos. But that isn't what worries me. For you see, I have no idea whether the fangs of the snake were poisonous or not. I have no idea whether my father will make it out of our hospital alive.  
  
Sweet, sweet Father Christmas, you have never once granted me what I wanted, and I never complained. But this year really is different, and I really need you to compel with my wishes. You are my last hope. Please show me, as well as my brothers, some hope.  
  
Signed,  
  
Ginny Weasley  
  
~*~  
  
Ginny snuck down the stairs, and headed for the kitchen where the fireplace was located. Lucky for her, there was floo powder on the mantle. Once she took a handful of the powder, Ginny threw it into the fireplace, and a moment later, her letter joined the flames.  
  
Ginny watched the flames for a moment, memorised by their dance. After a few moments, Ginny stopped staring and whispered, "Thank you, Father Christmas." She was not sure whether she would ever see her father again, not sure what was going, not sure who she was anymore, but a peace came upon her. And it told her everything would be alright.  
  
And the only person to thank in this case was Father Christmas. 


End file.
